Crazy is Perfect
by Delanie Faye
Summary: "A girl that felt caught and thought no one could see that maybe one day she'll be free." - Next to Normal
1. Chapter 1

_the memories will wane,  
><em>_the aftershocks remain_

* * *

><p>It killed me that I wasn't surprised when I got the phone call from Melanie. I should have been inconsolable. I should have fallen into a heap on the ground. I should have screamed, kicked, or refused to believe it.<p>

Instead, I closed my eyes for a moment and and asked her if she was okay.

"I don't know. I think I'm angry… maybe. I was planning on calling her tomorrow to tell her about the baby. I-" she sighed and I could hear her tapping on the back of the phone, a nervous habit she'd had since we were kids. "I think that I'm relieved. Does that make me some kind of a monster?"

"Mel, don't think like that," I turned over in bed and looked at the clock. Five o'clock. There was no way I was going to sleep now. "No one could take her – no one could keep her in one place. She wasn't going to get better." I switched the phone over to the other ear as I climbed out of bed. Immediately, I regretted leaving the protection of my thick comforter as my feet met the cold tile.

"I feel so guilty," she said, with a squeak, possibly trying to conceal what would have been a sob.

I was in the kitchen now, in my just-out-of-bed slump. I stared at the two appliances on the counter and took a few moments to sort out which one made coffee and which one made toast. "You have no reason to feel guilty," I countered, as filled the glass coffee pot with water from the sink.

"I was a horrible daughter, Sam. I took off across the country when we were twelve! I didn't want 'an enriched learning environment', I wanted out!"

"There is nothing wrong with wanting out," I said, trying extremely hard to imitate her Responsible Twin voice. Looking down, I groaned as I saw my toaster overflowing with water that I had poured from the coffee pot. Luckily, it wasn't plugged in.

"I left you with her. She was nuts and I just packed my bags and got out of there without even looking back," she rambled on, as I emptied the toaster back into the sink. "We should have called someone when dad left. That's when we should have done something; she could have gotten help a long time ago. She was too far gone once we graduated."

Turning the sink on again, I filled the pot with water and carefully monitored where I poured it into the coffee maker. Satisfied, I turned it on and walked over to the pantry to grab a bagel. "The past is the past, Mel. We need to worry about what is happening right now. Do you want to call dad or start making the arrangements?"

"Oh… I think I'll make the arrangements, if that's okay with you."

Typical.

"Fine. I'll call him in a few hours, let's meet for lunch and figure out whatever needs to be done. I'll probably bring Carly, too. She's good at details," I said, while walking to the toaster with my bagel, only to remember the dripping, pathetic mess that it was.

"Thank you, Sam. I just… I couldn't handle talking to him right now. It's hard enough on normal days."

"I know, I know," I took a bite of the chewy, cold bagel in my hand. "This is really happening, isn't it?"

Her end of the phone was quiet for a moment. The thing that we had feared since we were in elementary school had finally happened. "I'm afraid so, Samantha. I'm going to let you go, alright? Will you be okay?"

I asked myself that question every day since we learned about mom's problem. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'll see you this afternoon. Bye, Mel."

I hung up the phone and set it on the kitchen table before walking to my bathroom. I put on my fluffy bathrobe that was hanging on a hook on the door, and then, stepped in front of the sink to brush my teeth. I looked up and studied my reflection. I had so much in common with my mother. The blue eyes that got a complement from anyone who was brave enough to get close, the blonde hair that people took years trying to achieve artificially, the slight frame that allowed us to constantly eat without bothering to count calories… These physical similarities were always a bit haunting, but that wasn't what I worried about as I locked eyes with a stranger with the blood-shot eyes in front of me.

I rinsed and spit before walking back to the kitchen and looking at the coffee pot that… made a beautiful pot of hot water, as I had forgotten to add the coffee. I sighed and picked up my phone and dialed a number that I was far too familiar with.

In two rings, he picked up.

"Ungh."

"Freddie?"

"What could you possibly want before six o'clock in the morning?" He groaned, "I don't have to be in until ten o'clock today, I was going to sleep in. The one morning that I can sleep in and you are going to call me at five thirty in the morning. Five thirty! Why would you do that, Sam?"

"My mom committed suicide last night."

A beat and I could hear the springs of his mattress as he sat up in bed. "I'm so – Sam, I didn't mean to. I'm sorry, I just –"

"Don't worry about it," I said, walking over to the couch and slumping down. "I mean, it sucks… But it's not like I could have stopped it from happening, I guess."

"Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"Could you come over?"

"Of course," he replied, and I could hear him hurrying as if every second mattered. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes, just hold tight."

"Freddie, could you do me a favor?"

"Yeah, no problem. What do you need?"

"I need some damn coffee."

* * *

><p><strong>This story is inspired by Next to Normal, a Pulitzer Prize-winning musical. I strongly suggest you listen to the soundtrack, it is phenomenal. <strong>


	2. Chapter 2

_ i love you as much as i can_

* * *

><p><em>I'm dozing off. I'm dreaming of coffee and soy sauce and Freddie. Freddie will be here soon. He will bring me coffee. I need to put soy sauce in my coffee? Why am I thinking of soy sauce? The steak marinade! I'm going to put more soy sauce in the steak marinade. Need to call work, take a week off. I can't take a week off. The menus are being updated this week, Callahan cannot be trusted in the kitchen alone, I need one more unique dessert, I haven't even started on…<em>

THUMP!

Someone jumps onto the couch next to me_. _

_Someone is on the couch. Someone is on the couch in my apartment and I didn't let them in…_

"STAY AWAY FROM ME, THESE HANDS ARE REGISTERED LETHAL WEAPONS!"

My eyes are open now, and I am more or less awake. Freddie is standing in the middle of my living room with a coffee-stained shirt, plaid pajama pants, and the cocked-eyebrow-face that he does when someone is being really dumb.

"Lethal weapons, huh?"

"I… fell asleep."

He nodded his head and looked down at his shirt, "Luckily, you spilled my latte and not your coffee."

I walked over and took the coffee cups from him, placing them both on the coffee table. "I think I have one of your shirts in my closet. I'll go get it and then you can change. Are you sticky? You don't need a shower, do you? I still need to talk to someone about my shower, I had to use Carly's yesterday because mine is all kinds of messed up and I still haven't gotten around to calling someone. Ugh! That is one more thing that I have to do this week." With a sigh, I started walking towards my bedroom to get his shirt. All of a sudden, he grabs my wrist and swings me around until I am facing him again.

"Are you okay, Sam?"

That's the thing about Freddie. He can make the simple seem incredibly complicated.

"I'm fine," I answer, trying half-heartedly to pull away again. When this fails, I add, "I have a lot on my plate this week. This is all really inconvenient."

"Sam."

And that is it. He declared war.

We stand in the middle of the living room and stare. This is how it has always been. Emotions aren't an easy thing for either one of us. Sometimes, he has to admit that he can't solve any problem with a computer. And sometimes, I have to acknowledge my problems. We are still staring, the silence is killing me. I do not want to lose. He is not going to lose.

I falter. In a quick moment, I'm falling into his arms.

He walks us over to the couch and I'm sobbing into his chest. We sit until I can compose myself. His thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of my hand, his arm supporting me, a soft kiss on the forehead and whispered, 'It'll be okay's and 'We'll figure it out's.

And that's how I know that I'm in love with him; waking up at five o'clock, not fretting over spilled coffee, holding me when I want nothing more than to pull away.

That's how I know that he is far too good for me.

I look up at him, tear-stained and swallowing my hiccups, "I'm a horrible daughter."

"That's ridiculous."

"I really am. All of these years of resenting her, having to put myself through school with no help at all. All of the milestones that I didn't invite her to because I was afraid she'd embarrass me. All of those times that I yelled at her, when I knew that she really couldn't help being the way that she was! Freddie, I said horrible things to her when I was upset. I pushed her aside and I was selfish and I could have gotten her help, but I didn't."

I closed my eyes and started breathing slowly. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.

"This is stupid," I said, pulling away and wiping my nose with my sleeve. "It's over, it's done. The past is the past, right? You need a new shirt."

I can tell that he wants to argue with me, but he refrains. Instead, he stands up, picks up my coffee cup and places it in my hands. Before I have a chance to get a sip, he wipes the tears from under my eyes with his thumbs and bends over, giving me a kiss on the forehead. Then, he turns and walks across the room and into my bedroom.

This relationship, if you can even call it that, has always puzzled me. Vicious middle school pranks turned into good-natured practical jokes in high school. We dated the summer after high school and then, pretended we hated each other again when it was time to go to college. Once we got there, we'd freeze each other out for a week or two at a time, never more than that though. Freshman year, we'd drive hours to see each other for thirty minutes. We fought constantly, only to come together in the end. Ridiculous arguments brought insane compromises. Two weeks away from each other meant making two hours of memories when we were together. Big fights were settled with bigger kisses.

He was a constant for me; a promise that no matter how crazy or unexpected our trials were, enduring them would be worth the battle.

With Freddie, I can always look forward to the good that is waiting over the hill.

He came back a few minutes later, wearing a clean shirt and sat down on the couch, holding an arm out for me to join him.

"You're great," I said, my voice raspy from the break down. "Did you know that?"

He gives a soft, throaty laugh, as he absentmindedly twirls a strand of my hair around his index finger. "You're alright."

Looking out the window across the room, I can see the sun peeking out from behind the city. We sit for a long while, watching the world bathe in fresh, new light.

"This is really messed up," I say, after the coffee is gone and I feel like he might be falling asleep. "I hate this."

He shifts on the couch next to me and pulls me into another hug, my chin resting on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Sam. I wish there were something I can do."

And that's when I lift my head off of his shoulder and kiss him. I kiss him because everything that he does is far more than 'something'.

* * *

><p>I hope that you don't think that Sam is too OOC. Again, I highly suggest that you listen to Next to Normal.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

_maybe my last lucid moment has passed_

* * *

><p>The coffee was forgotten. Freddie and I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up and wriggled out of his arms. I had a lot of calls to make today.<p>

Checking the phone, I realized that I was supposed to be at Chauncey's in a little less than an hour. I decided to let Freddie sleep for as long as he could and called one of my chefs and very carefully made another pot of coffee.

"Sam! Um, hi… You never call me. Why are you calling me?"

"Callahan? Can you handle the kitchen today?"

"You said I'm not allowed to be in the kitchen by myself."

"C'mon, it's been three months since I said that."

"Yeah, but you said it while beating me with a ladle."

"You burned asparagus," I said, with a sigh, "It is impossible to burn asparagus, it's eighty percent water and – wait, no! We're not going to get into this again. I am officially reinstating your authority in the kitchen."

"You say that now, but you're going to show up and judge every little thing I'm doing. That's it! It's an evaluation, right? They're making cuts, and you want me gone."

"Callahan?"

"What?"

"How long have you been working with me at Chauncey's?"

"Um… Two years?" I groaned

"Callahan, if I had really wanted you gone, we wouldn't be talking right now. Can you handle the kitchen today?"

"Yeah, it's Monday – shouldn't be too bad," he said, his voice down an octave. I couldn't help but wonder if he got some kind of thrill out of the drama that he puts into simple circumstances. "What's up, Sam? I can't remember you ever taking a day off without planning ahead."

"My mom killed herself last night," I said, my chest feeling tight again. All of a sudden, there is a hand in mine. I look at Freddie and smile a bit. "The lady that insisted on licking the waiters so that she knew she could trust them? That's her."

"Your mom?" he asked, "I thought she was the lady that tried to smuggle out a lobster from the tank."

I laughed a bit at that memory, "Yep. That was mom."

"I can take over today, no problem," he said, "I hope everything works out, Sam. Goodbye."

I turned to Freddie. "Ten thirty, right? You should probably head out."

He shook his head, "I really don't have to. I can call in sick."

"Don't waste your sick days on me. I mean, you're going to come to the funeral, right?"

"Of course I'm coming to the funeral," he said, standing up and stretching. After a second, he pulled me close again. "You're right though. They probably wouldn't like me missing twice in a week. I should probably go."

I held him for a moment more, closing my eyes as he rested his cheek on my forehead.

"Freddie?" I asked, not moving from our hold.

"Yeah?"

"Could you stay over tonight? I mean, you don't have to, and I know your place is closer to work, but I kind of don't want to be alone tonight." It pained me to say it out loud and I grimaced as I felt my cheeks flush.

He moved his hands to my shoulders and made me look at him in the eyes. "You know that I love you, right?"

"Don't say that, Freddie. I don't want to think about that."

"That's what you always say," he said, keeping his voice steady. "Sometimes, it's okay to think about things like that."

"I just can't right now, Freddie. My mom is dead, I can't think about me and you."

His lip twitched into an understanding smile, "Okay, Sam. I'm going to head out, I'll swing by my place after work and pick up some clothes for tomorrow—"

"You really don't have to—"

"Hush," he said, guiding me toward him by my shoulders. His soft lips met mine and I had to choke back a fresh set of tears. His large hands rubbed my lower back for a moment before he pulled away. "Bye."

"Bye, Freddie."

I watched the door close behind him before I moved. Pouring myself another cup of coffee, I opened my laptop that was on my kitchen table to catch up on some orders for the restaurant.

Freddie sometimes baffled me. He'd been saying that for years now.

That he loved me.

I just didn't see the point in letting myself get in too deep with him… with anyone.

We went through a spell, where I urged him to date around and I did the same. We ended up calling each other after awful nights of awkward conversation with people that we hardly knew.

It makes sense to Freddie and Carly and Melanie.

Love.

To them, love is easy.

They will say that every person has another person out in this huge world that will love every little bit of them.

I love Freddie. I love how compassionate he is. I love how he thinks every single thing though, logically. I love watching his forehead wrinkle when he is working on a new website design. I love holding his hand, our late night talks, and how he is the only person that can calm me down when I let my emotions get the best of me.

Freddie says that he loves me. He has said it to me, seriously, five times.

And I know that he thinks he does.

But he could never love me, not all of me.

After I was done with the computer, I headed to back to the bathroom to get ready for the day ahead and called Carly. She agreed to meet Melanie and me at a little bistro that was next door to her work.

"Sam, are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said, running a brush through my hair. "After I call my dad and get that out of the way, I'll be great. I mean, Melanie agreed to make all of the arrangements." I searched around my messy cabinet for my tooth paste for a moment before adding, "You should probably call her when we're done talking."

"I know that you're not going to like to hear my 'shrinky-mumbo-jumbo… But can I be a psychologist for a minute?"

"I'd rather 'oo be a bes' fran," I replied, in a huff, with my tooth brush in my mouth.

"I just think that you shouldn't be pushing all of this aside, Sam."

I groaned and reached for the mouth wash.

"No, really! Just listen for a sec. You never acknowledge your problems. It's okay to have feelings. They don't just go away if you don't address them."

I spit, glad to have the stale coffee taste out of my mouth.

"Thanks for the concern, Carls. But I'm just going to continue being a feeling-less zombie, if that's okay with you."

I heard her take a deep breath, "You know that that isn't what I meant, Sam."

"I know," I said, trying to calm myself down a little, the last thing I needed to think about were horrible mood swings. "I'm sorry, Carly. I need to call my dad… I'll see you at lunch."

"Alright, I'll call Melanie… If you need anything, I can take off early today, okay?"

"Not necessary. Bye."

"Bye, Sam."

After hanging up, I walked to my closet to find something acceptable to wear into public. With another deep breath, I dialed the number that I have only used twice before in my life.

"Hello? Sam?" He asked, his voice sounding like sandpaper, like it always had.

"Yeah. Um, can you listen for a second?"

"That's the point of a phone call, isn't it?" And of course, just my existence is bothering the man.

"Look. Mom killed herself last night. Overdosed in some hotel room, the maid found her."

The line is silent for a second, and I can just imagine him bringing his hand to his forehead and running it down his face, looking for something to say.

"And?"

"Really, dad? And?"

"Well, what am I supposed to say, Sam?"

"I just thought you'd want to know. It's not like you've ever cared what was going on in our lives before, but this is kind of big, okay?" I tried to reason with myself, but my rage was quickly taking over my self-restraint. "You didn't even answer the phone when Melanie called to tell you she was pregnant, did you know you're going to be a grandfather?"

"No… I guess not, will you just calm down?"

"No! I won't!" I sounded hysterical now, but I just couldn't stop. "We're stepping up and taking care of all of this, just like we have since you walked out. Melanie and I are stepping up for you, again. I just wanted you to hear it from us; not three years from now and you're desperate for money and you try to find her and find out from an old landlord or something! So now you know, the funeral will probably be on Wednesday or Thursday, if you want to send flowers or something. Ha!"

When he spoke, his voice was cold.

"You're just like her, you know that? You are going to end up just like her… a complete nutcase, impossible to be around, can't keep friends or make a relationship work. That's why I left. It's just not worth it."

I sank down on my bed. My heart was beating way too fast, I was struggling to breathe. "Shut up… Shut the fuck up! You don't even know me… You never took the time to know me. I am not like her!"

"Heh. Right. Is that all?"

"You bastard! I don't know why I bothered; you're just a useless asshole!" I hung up the phone and threw my cell across the room.

I hugged my legs to my body and tried to breathe deeply.

His words echoed all of the nagging thoughts that I've carried with me since I was in high school.

My dad was right. That's why Freddie can't love me. Eventually, I would just scare him away.

* * *

><p><strong>I apologize for the wait. I worked really hard on this chapter, I hope that there aren't any plot holes. I changed direction a teeny bit. :) Reviews are appreciated! <strong>


End file.
